


Eye of the Hurricane

by silver_fish



Series: bad things happen bingo [7]
Category: A Saga of Light and Dark - T. J. Chamberlain, Original Work
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Ambiguous Relationship, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Guilt, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Loss of Control, Magic, Multi, Natural Disasters, Nerissa has PTSD - Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Of Shadow and Flame, Panic Attacks, Suicidal Ideation, it's a metaphor, love is power bro...!!!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-15
Updated: 2020-04-15
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:21:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23655280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/silver_fish/pseuds/silver_fish
Summary: She doesn't know how to stop the storm. Even if she did, she isn't sure she wouldwantto. There is, after all, something very satisfying about the destruction of that which is outside of herself for once.
Relationships: Ada Archer/Emmet Pomlei/Nerissa Smith
Series: bad things happen bingo [7]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1634152
Comments: 5
Kudos: 5
Collections: Bad Things Happen Bingo





	Eye of the Hurricane

**Author's Note:**

  * For [KrisseyCrystal (IceCreAMS)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IceCreAMS/gifts).



> [twitter](https://twitter.com/laphicets) / [tumblr](https://kohakhearts.tumblr.com)
> 
> bad things happen bingo!! my lovely friend krissey requested "natural disaster" + nerissa/ada/emmet. consequently, she opened up my third eye so widely i had to set aside the 18 prompts that were requested ahead of this one to write it. these three are obviously not the canon ship, and this is not a canon event (but i guess since i made the lore, the implication is that this _is_ canonically plausible? LOL), but there are spoilers present for the major events of osa and oes. i had _so much fun_ with this; i really hope you enjoy it!

They’re afraid of her.

She knows they are. Knows this like she knows the Heavens are blue, like she knows they are suspended above humanity. She _knows_ they are, because she has _made_ them.

It has been four days, now. Phiise sees hurricanes every year, but Nerissa knows as well as all the rest of them that this is out of season, that it is quite early for a tropical storm. But after the sky had gone grey across the globe for months on end and the Heavens nearly fell atop them all, most people are willing to chalk this up to a continuation in the pattern of climatic abnormalities. And it definitely _is_ , there’s no doubt about that.

It’s just that this time, she knows what the cause is. And as soon as everybody else realizes, they’ll want her to fix this, too.

She _can’t_ , though. She has tried. _Really_. But the storm has only worsened. The city’s meteorologists say they shouldn’t expect the worst of this for at least another three days, and then who _knows_ how long it will be before it goes away completely?

They’ve been, understandably, shut inside all this time. The rain has filled the streets, rivers along cobblestone, and those closest to the coastline have retreated deeper into the city, presumably waiting for municipal directives to evacuate entirely. They’re saying, after all, that it will be the worst storm Phiise has seen in decades. Maybe even centuries.

Nerissa has read some about the history of storms. Mostly, though, she knows about the mythological ones. Stories of violent natural disaster set in Namthi, in the coastal colonies of Eraos, of Gias. A lot of them in Phiise. In a world mostly dominated by _water_ , it’s difficult to avoid storms of this calibre. But they were not always merely scientific phenomena; long ago, in the time of Nakri, it was believed that storms were caused by diviners. That if the people enraged the angels, they would in turn invoke a storm on them—and in the process, they might wipe out the blasphemous.

Well, Nerissa doesn’t know about that last part. But the _rest_ of it…

“Maybe it’s not so bad,” says Avery, from behind her. “We could all use the time to rest, I think.”

When Nerissa glances over her shoulder, she sees Avery and Isobel at the table, each nursing a cup of tea. Emmet, Ada, and Poseidon are there too, but don’t seem too invested in their conversation; they have a deck of cards between them and are playing their eighth hand of Go Fish.

Isobel’s eyes meet hers, deeply thoughtful. Hastily, Nerissa turns away again, back to the scene outside the window.

“Rest does very little if one is still stressed about her circumstances,” Isobel finally responds, and Nerissa tenses.

“That won’t go away,” Avery mutters. “We just have to make the best out of it for now.”

Avery’s hardly an _optimist_ , though. Not the way Adrienne was.

A flash of lightning illuminates the street; it is gone just as soon as Nerissa’s thought came to her.

“Go Fish,” Poseidon declares.

Emmet groans. “You’re cheating. Seriously. How do you do that? I haven’t gotten a single pair!”

“You just have to play smarter,” Poseidon informs him. “Like, when you ask me if I have a four, then I know _you_ have a four. But if you also tell me you have a seven and a nine and a two before I draw a four, then I know you have all those too _and_ I get your four, because you still assume I don’t have one.”

“Oh, so your _sister_ taught you how to cheat at Go Fish, did she?”

“It’s not cheating. Just being smart. It’s your turn, Ada.”

But Ada doesn’t say anything, and when Nerissa looks around again, she sees that Ada is, much like Isobel was, watching her.

She smiles when Nerissa locks gazes with her, though.

“You should join us,” she says. “It’s better with more people.”

Nerissa shakes her head. “Thanks, though. I’m… I need some rest. I’m going to bed.”

Nobody says anything as she moves around them to get to the hall, where their bedrooms are. She doesn’t share hers her, much like at Emerson’s. It’s a large house—a testament to Orion’s status within the kingdom, she supposes. Though the rooms aren’t _large_ , they are certainly spacious enough to accommodate more than one person each. But there are four bedrooms, and only six of them; Poseidon was very insistent that Nerissa should have a room to herself, as if she won’t wake in the middle of the night and venture to his anyway.

Still, before she opens the door to her room and steps inside, she hears Emmet say, “It’s the middle of the day.”

If anyone responds to him, Nerissa doesn’t stay put long enough to hear it.

There’s a window in this room too, just by the bed. She settles down on top of the covers, leaning her back against the wall and curling her knees up to her chest, then rests her chin against them and stares outside.

The rain is heavy against the glass, each hit seeming to echo around the room. It is incessant, unceasing, no end in sight. She knows that she ought to want to see the end of the storm, but there is a sort of peace in it too. All the things that have been aching within her, screaming for release, dropped down from the Heavens themselves.

Nobody really does know when the worst of the storm will come to pass. This in itself is unnatural—a week, or more, of endless rain, an unquenchable storm. Nerissa has always liked the rain, at least. It doesn’t mean it isn’t destructive.

The Sea Nymph Amphitrite used to watch over the city of Phiise. Maybe she still does, even. Nerissa wonders if she ever caused a storm here—or if she worked to keep them from being as violent as they might have been otherwise.

Is she there, now, using her magic to keep the hurricane in check?

Perhaps, if she is, she could stop it. Perhaps, if she is, the people of this city ought to be asking _her_ to do something about it, instead of Nerissa. They all know who Amphitrite is, after all. What does anybody know about Nerissa, except that she has already borne the weight of the Heavens for them?

Nerissa has always liked the rain. But it was raining in Tragidoù Forest, too.

Outside, the drops pelt harder still against the window.

Nerissa shifts, exhaustion tugging at her bones. She has been nothing but exhausted since she woke up in Hathet all those weeks ago. It is still relatively early in the day, but there’s nothing they can do anyway.

She glances out the window one last time, then lowers herself down to lying, turning on her side and staring at the wall just below the pane. Maybe it is hours, or perhaps only minutes, but at some point she must dose off; when she stirs again, disoriented, it is to see that all the natural light has fled the room. If the others ate dinner, they must have done so without her.

Sitting up, she inspects her clothes with a small frown. She never did change into her nightwear, and now her shirt is terribly wrinkled. Maybe she ought to care, but all her worries over it seem to leave her with her next exhale. It does not release the tension in her shoulders, but she grew accustomed to that weight long before the Heavens ever touched her hands.

When she stands, she stretches her stiff limbs, then pauses to listen to the rain. It has lessened somewhat, but is still loud enough to echo through the empty room.

Suddenly certain she cannot sleep any longer, Nerissa cautiously moves to the door and slips out, leaving it open just a crack behind her. With light feet, she makes her way down the hall, back into the kitchen. There are unwashed dishes in the sink, plates and teacups.

The rain picks up, its pitters and patters becoming urgent, angry slaps against the roof of Orion’s house.

How many people have already had their properties destroyed?

Beneath the rain, the sound of the whistling wind reaches her ears. That has only worsened, too. They think it can only get worse.

Heart in her throat, Nerissa steps away from the dirty dishes, towards the entrance hall. She finds her sandals by the door, untouched for many days, lined up along the wall with the others’. A wry smile crosses her face. Certainly, she is not dressed for the weather.

But this storm can’t kill her. It can’t even hurt her.

Determined to not think too hard of _how_ or _why_ , she slips her shoes on. With a quick glance behind her to ensure she is not being followed, she gently pulls open the door and steps outside. Immediately, the wind whips past her, throwing her hair across her face. She tightens her grip on the doorknob and pulls hard to get the door closed. The _click_ seems louder, somehow, than the storm behind her.

She runs a hand through her hair, trying to keep it out of her eyes to no avail. As soon as she drops it again, the wind takes control again. Not that it matters much anyway; she can barely see a metre in front of her from the intensity of the rain.

Taking in a deep breath, she makes her way down the walk up to Orion’s house, jaw clenched in order to keep herself upright and moving. She brings a hand up and waves it around her, suspending the raindrops before they can reach her. If she focusses, the magic won’t go away.

Then, she doesn’t need to worry so much about what her magic _can_ and _cannot_ do anymore. Not since she got her wings.

A strong gust sweeps by, nearly knocking her down. Once she has regained her footing, she continues down the sidewalk. Phiise is a mostly unfamiliar city, but if she keeps walking west she will eventually reach the port, where the storm is at its strongest.

She trudges along, feet heavy—but at least they are dry, she thinks. Though it must be freezing, she doesn’t feel cold at all.

The city is hollow, desolate. There is nothing on the streets but her and her storm. Even those who do not have housing themselves have found shelter for the duration of the storm. But Erebusians share a sense of community far greater than Nerissa ever perceived at home.

 _Home_.

But she doesn’t really have a home anymore, does she?

The sky erupts into white light. Thunder reverberates around her, so massive it seems to shake the very ground beneath her feet. She is sure that thunder and lightning are not characteristic of tropical storms, but this isn’t exactly a typical storm, either. Does it even count as a natural occurrence if each raindrop is anger, grief, _pain_?

The scent of the storm—of the Sea, so close to her now—is familiar. She remembers the first time she ever smelled it, all those months ago in Chronos’s Gate, stuck in between past and present and future, unaware of what would come, what it all meant. Could she have changed it, if she had? If time is so relative, could she _still_ change it?

After all, she’s a diviner now. Isn’t she?

So why is the human side of her still _ruling_?

She comes to a stop at the corner of a street, leaning against the side of a tall building— _tall_ , that is, in comparison to everything else here. But things in Aether are so much grander, larger…

Pain shoots through her head suddenly, drawing a sharp his from behind her teeth. The Sea is ahead of her, if she would just keep moving, but her heart is beating so fast she fears it may burst. Even steadied by the wall of the building, dizziness has overwhelmed her. Her breath come fast and short, each one less effective than the last.

She can still smell the salty tang of the Sea, but when she squints through the rain towards it, she does not see the streets of Phiise.

Alarm surges through her, so powerful she nearly collapses from it. But she can’t—of course she can’t, she is the only one left who will save Poseidon—

“ _Nerissa_!”

She shuts her eyes tightly. Yes, she’s been through this before. It’s just like when she came here before, when there was no storm at all. She knows, she _does_. It’s not real. She is here, she is _now_. That isn’t _really_ Emmet’s voice. It’s just a memory. Something that has already passed. Poseidon is safely inside, sleeping, undrowned…

“Nerissa!”

Closer, now, but she can’t open her eyes, can’t even catch her breath—

“Angels above.” A sigh of relief, but it is tense, somehow choppy, like his teeth are chattering. “What are you _doing_?”

A hand touches her shoulder.

Chest heaving, her eyes fly open again and the field of magic around her falls away, propelling itself forward. She watches in horror as the rain slants, turns and blows Emmet away from her, sends him to the ground. Ada is at his side immediately, hands a glowing green in the dark of the storm.

Nerissa steps back, but cannot look away as Ada helps him up again, even through the wind, the rain—

“This isn’t real,” she mutters. “It’s not real, this isn’t real—”

“Nerissa?” This is Ada, all concern. Concern for Emmet, surely, because he is the one she has hurt, it is his blood on her trembling hands…

Emmet holds his hand up, a small flame appearing there. He will try to hurt her in return, then, but how can he? The storm is powerful, all-consuming, filled with rage and hatred and—

“We’re not gonna hurt you,” Emmet says, taking just one step forward before Ada grabs a hold of his arm and brings him to a halt. “We’ve been looking for you for hours, now. You must be freezing.”

“Stay away from me,” she warns, holding her hands in front of her. “I’ll hurt you. I’ll kill you, just like the others.”

“You won’t.” Ada. Even in the dark, her eyes are blazing. “You didn’t kill anybody who didn’t deserve it, Nerissa. I know you know that.”

She shakes her head wildly, only just aware of the fact that her hair is now sopping wet as it flops against the bare skin of her arms. “Please don’t, _please_ —”

“Fuck this.” Emmet pulls away from Ada’s grip and continues moving forward, his flame extinguishing once he is too far past Ada. Nerissa _tries_ to move back, but her foot catches on something and she stumbles, nearly falling, but then he is there, one hand wrapped securely around her wrist, the other hovering near her hip.

Nerissa looks up and meets his eyes, struggling to pull away from him but unable to. Where his fingers press into her skin stings, but it is not painful, not really.

“I’m not _scared_ of you,” he says, loudly, maybe less to be heard over the storm and more to make sure she knows he _means_ it.

She tries to yank her hand back again, but he holds fast.

“You _should_ be, then!” she screams. “You—you— _Stay away from me! Get away!_ ”

“I’m not going anywhere.” His voice is as steady as his gaze, as fierce.

“I don’t want to—!”

“You _won’t_.” With so much conviction, like he really believes it. “Just look at me, would you? I know you’re scared, but it’ll just be worse if we leave you out here all alone.”

Her heart roars in her ears, almost loud enough to drown him out.

Almost.

But not quite.

“You shouldn’t be here,” she croaks. “You should go back, you should—”

“I already told you, I’m not going _anywhere_.” His lips turn up. “And this time, I won’t let you out-stubborn me. Why don’t you just breathe. We’ll do it together, right? You know all those stupid things Ada’s always saying? Count to four, that’s in… That’s right, there you go.”

She breathes in through her nose, out through her mouth. One, then two, then three… The rain lightens, gentles. She can no longer feel it against her skin, soaking into her hair, her clothes, her wings…

Her wings?

Finally, she breaks eye contact with Emmet to look over her shoulders. Indeed, there they are, black and feathered, sleek with the rain.

All at once, she remembers where she is, _when_ she is. The wind roars all around them, but as Ada comes closer to stand beside Emmet, the strength of it seems to ebb slightly, as if her own wind has directed it somewhere else.

Her own wind—warm and kind and healing.

Nerissa closes her eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. The magic around her gathers in closer, tighter, falls upon her shoulder blades. She feels the weight of her wings fall away, leaving her suddenly exhausted. Unthinking, she finds her legs folding beneath her, and then she is on the ground, dragging Emmet with her.

He yelps, but manages to drop his hold on her in order to fall with at least _some_ grace. He shoots her an annoyed look as he sits up, but then he is scooting closer to her, legs crossed, looking as if he doesn’t plan to go anywhere at all.

With far more caution, Ada lowers herself to the ground too, depositing herself between the two of them so they sit in a poorly constructed triangle, the sort kindergarteners could surely do better.

Emmet holds his left hand out, igniting his flame again. With Ada’s protective magic, as well as Nerissa’s, it burns brighter even than it did before. He stretches his other hand out too, and leans forward until it reaches Nerissa’s.

He wraps his fingers around her limp hand, sending warmth up from her fingertips all the way down her wrist. She inhales, then exhales, and weakly manages to squeeze his hand in return.

His lips turn up into a bright smile—one of those real ones, rarer than the signature smirk or grin. “You know it’s, like, ass in the morning, right?” he asks her, but his tone is light, teasing, as if they are not sitting in the middle of a _hurricane_.

She looks down, throat searing, and shakes her head.

“It got a lot worse, you know.” Ada’s voice is quiet, but so much bigger, still, than the storm. “It woke us up.”

“It woke Poseidon up,” Emmet corrects. “He said he figured you’d probably gone out, and he wanted to come after you—”

Nerissa’s head shoots up again so fast her neck twinges. “Where is he?” she demands. “He’s not out in—”

“He’s fine.” Ada reaches over and takes hold of her other hand, offering her a reassuring smile in the process. “He’s with Isobel and Aunt Avery. I think they’re probably having tea or something. He’s been pretty worried about you, you know.”

Nerissa’s vision blurs, twists. “I didn’t want…”

“If you weren’t a little fucked up,” says Emmet seriously, “I’d be more concerned. To be completely honest with you, we’re _all_ worried about you, but there’s not a lot we can do. We can’t stop this storm, Nerissa.”

“I can’t either,” she rasps. “I can’t, I’ve _tried_ —”

“Then maybe we just need to wait it out,” Ada suggests. “You’ve been holding this back for months, now. Even before we ever met you. Right? So…you’re just at your limit. And that’s all right.”

But it isn’t. This storm has driven people from the homes, destroyed their property, their livelihoods.

As if sensing what she’s thinking, Ada adds, “Nobody’s dead. The storm isn’t _your_ fault. You can’t control it any more than the rest of us can. It’s not like you asked for any of this.”

“Yeah.” Emmet wiggles his fingers, making his flame dance about his palm. “Way I see it, you’ve done a lot more good than bad, anyway. No matter what _you_ think. I mean, we’d all be fucked if the Heavens had actually fallen, right? But you fixed it, even though it hurt you. And hurt you a _lot_.”

“I didn’t do it for the world,” Nerissa mutters. “I did it because if I hadn’t gotten there first, then Poseidon would have done it instead, and—” She stops, her breath catching in her throat. Screwing her eyes shut, she ducks her head down again.

“You’re not as bad of a person as you think you are,” Ada says gently. “This storm _will_ pass, Nerissa. Whether it clears up tonight or two weeks from now, it doesn’t matter. Your feelings are important, and they _should_ be felt. Even if they’re bad, or violent, or…or anything. You can’t get going on like you have been.”

“You’re a bit of a mess,” Emmet agrees. “But, like, that’s fine. I mean, seriously—I couldn’t imagine going through the shit you have. You’ve lost more than anyone else to this thing, and it’s not going to get better for a long time, either. If anyone has a right to be pissed, it’s you.”

As he speaks, the stinging in her eyes only worsens. She can’t keep her eyes closed, can’t keep the tears shuttered away, and when she opens her eyes, she sees that Emmet and Ada are still right here, right next to her, like they don’t ever plan on going anywhere else.

It is as though there is a storm within herself, to rival the one raging around them. But they are not separate, not _really_ ; the fiercer the storm in her chest, the worse the one outside grows. Now, suddenly, it cannot be held back anymore. It starts with a tear, then two, three, four, and then she is choking, sobbing, gasping for air she can’t quite get in.

Emmet and Ada don’t move. Their hands, tightly wound around her own, don’t even twitch. Around them, the wind howls and screams and cries, but they are mostly safe here, protected by their magic. Lashing rain, booming thunder, lightning so bright it is momentarily blinding. The scene of the Sea washes over her all over again, the rolling of tides nearby trying to reach up to the Heavens, to the storm, to _her_ , and she is here—

 _Here_. Now.

“P-Poseidon’s okay?” she manages, hiccupping. Without a free hand, she can’t reach up to wipe the tears off her face; Ada leans closer and does it for her, fingers soft and gentle and loving, like Nerissa could break if she presses too hard.

“He’s fine,” Ada murmurs. “Worried, but he’s fine. They’re looking after him.”

She opens her mouth to respond, but is quickly overwhelmed again by the weight of her despair. She breathes rapidly, clenching Ada’s and Emmet’s hands so tightly they _must_ be in pain, and yet they make no indication of it, do not even seem to _think_ to move.

“My mom used to sit up like that with me sometimes,” Emmet offers. “You know, when I was his age. She’s always taken care of me. She’ll take care of him too.”

“I— _I’m_ supposed to—”

“But you’re sixteen,” he cuts in. “You can’t be anyone’s parent. You can barely even look after yourself.”

“I’m all—he— _has_ —"

“We haven’t left yet,” Ada says fiercely. “We aren’t going anywhere. We’re here for him as much as you. And, right now, _you’re_ the one who needs us. Gods, Nerissa. You _died_! That’s, like, super fucked up!”

She’s momentarily caught off guard, by the sudden realization that she’s pretty sure she’s never heard Ada say _fuck_ before, but even once she catches herself, she has no time to speak, because Ada isn’t done yet:

“And your _mom_ died! And don’t say, like, _my_ mom died too, because she was awful and, anyway, I talked to Aunt Avery about it a bunch. Who have _you_ talked to? I know you’ll tell me a bit if you have a nightmare, or…or you feel like you have no other choice, but that’s not much, you know. You’re _allowed_ to be upset. And if we have to—to sit here for the next twenty-five hours so you do, then that’s _fine_.”

“And what happened to Poseidon obviously still freaks you out,” Emmet adds. “I don’t blame you, either. _I_ was scared for him, and I’ve hardly known him my whole life like you have. Plus, so soon after your mom died? And what about your dad, huh?”

“I killed him—”

“But even Emerson says you didn’t _really_. Come on, Nerissa. You’ve only ever killed to protect yourself and Poseidon. You’re not a _murderer_.”

“I still killed them!”

“Am _I_ a murderer?” Ada raises an eyebrow at her.

“ _No_ , but—”

“Then you can’t be either, because I _wanted_ to kill her. You just felt like you didn’t have any other choice. I know…I know the world has made you feel evil, but you’re _not_. You’re just a—just a kid, really. You’re not even in pelferia yet!”

She wants to say she’s _not_ a kid. Wants to remind them of her wings, of her _power_ , of every single thing she has sacrificed in the past seven months alone, never mind the rest of her life. All the things she had ripped away from her before she was ever even able to touch it, all the dreams she was never allowed to have, and _now_ the only thing she wants is—

Her family.

Her parents.

Her _mom_.

It comes back seemingly without warning; her heart constricts and the rain falls harder, faster, and she can’t look at either of them, can’t even speak or breathe or do anything except _try_ to choke her tears back.

But then Ada’s saying, “Don’t pretend they’re not there. We aren’t going to get mad. You’re safe here.”

And what else is she supposed to do? She cries and cries and cries, until her chest unclenches, until her eyes grow heavy and begin to ache, until her breaths are ragged and scratchy and painful, a reminder that whether she is mortal or not anymore, she _is_ still human.

“I’m sorry,” she gasps, and it is Emmet who shakes his head at her.

“I don’t wanna hear that. What’s there to be sorry for? And don’t give me some bullshit about how you’re supposed to be _stronger_ or whatever. You’re, like, the strongest person I know.”

Nerissa snorts, then coughs and sniffs as the action tickles her stuffed nose.

“No, seriously!” This is Ada, leaning forward with earnest eyes. “I could never have held up the Heavens. I don’t think very many people would have been able to, even if their magic _was_ compatible with Chaos.”

“I…I _didn’t_.” She drops her gaze down to the flame in Emmet’s hand, unable to keep looking at Ada, suddenly. “I _wanted_ it to—crush me—or…or something. I never…”

There’s a long pause, and she imagines Ada and Emmet are silently communicating above her. She is too exhausted to care about it.

“But you’re still here,” Emmet finally says. “So what if you wanted to die? You’re _not_ dead. And you’re not some in-between thing, either. You’re the same as you ever were. So, you have some big fancy wings now. Who cares? You’re no different than you were. You’re still a badass—”

“—a great sister,” Ada adds, “a great _student_ —”

“—a total nerd—”

“— _passionate_ —”

“— _awkward_ —”

Nerissa laughs; it is a thick and hurtful sound. “I _feel_ different. I feel like I lost—something. I feel like I should be in the Underworld, with my parents. What sort of sister does that—does that make me? That I wish I could have left my only brother behind just to see our parents again?”

“A pretty normal one, I’d think.” Emmet raises his hand up, drawing her gaze with it, until she is forced to meet his eyes again. “And, anyway, that’s not really what you want. You just think you do. If you were so determined to get to the Underworld, you would have found a way by now. And don’t think we haven’t considered it,” he adds, suddenly looking rather grim. “Ada’s been all over us about it since you woke up, that we should be watching you.”

Her chest stutters. “Watching me?”

In the dim light of the fire, Ada flushes slightly. “Well, I think you’re a little…um…depressed, maybe. I mean, who wouldn’t be? But you’re—you know, you don’t eat much, and you don’t sleep well, and you never want to do anything with us. I mean…I’m not an expert on this sort of stuff or anything, but I just…well, we’ve been worried. But we didn’t want to push you, either.”

“ _Ada_ didn’t want to push you,” Emmet corrects. “I’ve been saying for weeks that we should be making you talk or something, I dunno. I don’t like to go around baring my soul to everyone either, but we’re your…uh, well, we care about you. Love you, I guess.”

Nerissa’s lips twitch up, despite everything. “You guess?”

He grins. “Well, okay. I _know_. But still. The point is that it’s fine if you wanna act like nothing bothers you around others, but you don’t _have_ to do that with us. We don’t even _want_ you to. Like, uh—even if whatever you’re thinking or feeling is really shitty—”

“We love the bad parts of you as much as the good parts,” Ada says, solemn. “You think you’re dangerous or evil or—or whatever else, but we don’t care about that. If you are dangerous, then—then that’s just something about you that we care about. But I don’t think you are dangerous, Nerissa. I think you’re just… You’ve just been through a lot, and you never got a chance to heal from the first thing before the next one was happening. It’s not shameful if you wish you’d died. It’s just—it’s just because you miss your parents, and that’s _fine_.”

Emmet nods. “Yeah. I mean, I’d kill you if you died, so _don’t_ , but I don’t blame you for wanting to see your mom again.”

Suddenly, Nerissa hears that the rain has slowed, has turned to more of a drizzle than a downpour. Massive and sweeping gusts still whistle between narrow streets, but even the sound of that has gentled, calmed.

“I thought didn’t care,” she admits quietly, turning her gaze up to avoid their looks. “I thought…if you even noticed…then you didn’t want to deal with it. I’m not—I’m not the only one who’s lost things.”

“I’m sorry,” Ada whispers. “I didn’t realize. Of course we care. _All_ of us care. Aunt Avery, and Isobel—Emerson, my dad, any of them. They don’t see you as—as just a figurehead, or an angel, or any of what the others see you as. Because maybe…maybe our Nerissa _is_ a figurehead and an angel, but she’s also…also an older sister, who loves her brother dearly. She’s a scholar in the making, and a bit of a know-it-all, but she doesn’t _mean_ to be. And…she’s an orphan, who grew up isolated from the rest of the world with only two others, and now one of those people is gone and it feels like the world is just conspiring to take the other away, too. And right now, you’re going through something pretty big. Not everybody is going to understand what you had to sacrifice to save them. But we _do_.”

“And we never want you to do it again,” Emmet says. “For the record. Your life is important, and not just ‘cause of you magic. And if you can’t feel like it’s important yourself, then whatever. It’s important to _us_. Maybe we don’t have the luxury of just sitting around and recovering from everything before we gotta move on to the next thing, but we’re not expecting you to be some great war leader all the time, either. I won’t even make fun of you if you cry. Zeus knows you _need_ it.”

The lonely, howling wind quiets, slows.

“We’re not going anywhere.” Ada gives her hand a gentle squeeze. “You matter a lot more to us than the war, you know.”

Above them, light has begun to filter through the clouds. It stains their surroundings the pink of early morning.

“I’ve been so tired,” Nerissa says, barely more than a whisper. “I miss my mom. I always think that…that she would know what to do. And if she didn’t, then…then she wouldn’t let anybody hurt us, at least.”

“She was pretty incredible,” Emmet remarks. “She definitely loved you guys. I’m sure she still does.”

Nerissa looks down again, throat tight. “I just—wanted to go home.”

She feels the moment her magic stops reaching out to protect her from it, and she knows:

The rain has stopped.

“Even if you can never go back to Derayn,” Ada says, “that doesn’t mean you can’t find home somewhere else.”

And she’s right. Of course she is.

 _Home_ was never a place, after all. It was not Miko, not Derayn, not even Hathet.

It’s wherever her family is.

And her family is right _here_.

Emmet shakes out his hand, extinguishing the flame. A gentle breeze wraps around them, calm and controlled and _pleasant_.

“You need to get some rest,” Emmet says, but as he makes to pull his hand away from hers, Nerissa finds herself holding on tighter.

Her cheeks sting. “S-sorry. I just—”

“Hey, I’m not complaining.” He gestures towards Ada with his free hand, and then the two of them are rising, bringing Nerissa up with them. “Kind of a nice view, huh?”

She follows his gaze, twisting to look behind her. There is the shore—the salty tang of the Sea drifting through the air towards them. The water glitters gold with the first touches of the morning sun; the waves are small, barely even disrupting the tranquility of the rising sun.

“You almost made it,” Ada says, and when Nerissa turns to face her, she is wearing a grim smile.

“I’m glad I didn’t.” She looks between them briefly, embarrassment welling up inside of her. “Thanks for—for coming after me. I don’t know…”

“Don’t thank us,” Emmet tells her, and it is the closest to _scolding_ she thinks she has ever heard his tone. “We just did what we had to. We’d do it again, even.”

Nerissa’s shoulder brushes against his. “I don’t think you’ll have to.”

“Good.” Ada comes closer too, until she is pressed against Nerissa’s side. Suddenly, Nerissa realizes how _cold_ she is; her hair and clothes are still wet, though likely not as much as before. She can’t really remember, exactly. The entire night has blurred together, impossible to recognize through the haze of the storm.

“It’s a bit of a walk,” Emmet murmurs. “But let’s get back and get you warmed up. You’ll get sick, and then Ada will probably find some way to blame _me_ for it.”

“I would not!”

Nerissa smiles, but it is a small, tired expression. “All right,” she agrees. “Let’s go home.”

And the whole way back, they do not drop her hands.

**Author's Note:**

> comments and kudos are always appreciated! xx
> 
> if you're interested in learning more about or reading my novel series, i post all info on twitter [@laphicets](https://twitter.com/laphicets) and tumblr [@kohakhearts](https://kohakhearts.tumblr.com)! feel free to find me for general writing updates too; i also sometimes take fic requests on both platforms!


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